Oh Plot Bunny! Files #4: Ashes, Ashes
by rainjewel
Summary: He stepped into the darkened room. Amidst the plethora of medical machines and devices (all turned-off and silent), lay a thin figure in a hospital gown. Bruises covered the pale, milky skin. The hands were bandaged; the right wrist was in a brace...
1. Ring Around the Rosy

**Oh Plot Bunny! Files #4: Ashes, Ashes**

**By: rainjewel**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own a dang thing, unfortunately. If I did, there'd be no need for this fanfic or any other of my illustrious *laughs* works.

**Author's** **Note**: And the plot bunny dilemma continues! You don't know about my plot bunny saga? I suggest you check out my author's page for all the wacky details. In this story, there is a hint of 1x2 shonen ai (that pairing is the most interesting thing on the planet, as far as I'm concerned). The timeline is after the conclusion of the series (with total disregard to _Ground Zero_ and _Endless Waltz_oops). 

~*~

Duo stood in shock; his thumb still pressed down on the red detonation button.

_Oh God._

Quatre was crying. Duo didn't need to turn and see him to know. The smoke from the collapsed buildings drifted over and stung his eyes, making them tear up. Quatre was protected from the hot smoke by his goggles. He cried for another reason.

Duo slumped over, going down on one knee. Through the smoke the fire blazed and he heard sirens in the distance. Their wailing and the crackling of the flames were the only sounds in the night air.

The building had collapsed too quickly for anyone to scream.

"Duo, we have to get out of here," Quatre said. His heart bled. He dropped his own detonation switch.

"I" Duo looked on in horror. Quatre walked up and put his hands on the American's shoulders and shook him. The boy looked through him and onto the blaze.

"Come on. They'll be here any minute," he said. He kept the tremor out of his voice but tears rolled down his cheeks in unmerciful torrents. They caught the stars' light and made his face shimmer.

Duo rose but wouldn't move. Quatre forced the boy to turn around and walk back to their concealed motorbikes. He placed Duo's hands on the machine. Quatre held his breath for a moment, but then the braided pilot shook himself and hopped on the bike. Quatre climbed onto his own.

Duo looked at the fiery skyline and then at the detonation trigger still in his hand.

_I am Shinigami._

He screamed.

~*~

The minute Duo entered the Winner Mansion he fled up the stairs to his room. Quatre, scrambling through the front door, called after him but Duo was gone before the blonde had even finished speaking.

Quatre trembled and tried to keep from weeping. His soul ached. He felt like he had just died along with—

The holophone beeped, making him jump. He looked around dazedly, then recognized the sound was coming from his private line in his office. He ran down the hallway, wiping his face so that the tears wouldn't show.

Quatre walked into his office and flipped open the holophone. Rashid's somber face stared back at him. 

"Rashid!" he cried. His heart lifted at the sight of the beloved Maganac leader.

"Master Quatre," Rashid acknowledged. "I was hoping you'd be home."

"What is it?" Quatre asked, mildly concerned. He prayed to Allah that he wasn't red-faced from crying. Rashid wouldn't know about the mission—this damnable, nightmare of a mission.

"I was worried. I expected you back two days ago," Rashid said.

Quatre slapped his head. "I'm sorry! I completely forgot to tell you. Rashid, I had anan engagement I couldn't miss."

Rashid nodded, his eyes knowing. "I see. I trust everything went well?"

Quatre struggled. He bit his lip and looked away from the monitor.

"For me," he whispered. Quatre looked back to Rashid's troubled face. "Forgive me friend, but I have a comrade who needs my assistance. I will join you as soon as I am able."

Quatre flicked off the monitor, feeling guilty for being so abrupt. Stillhe sighed. Duo had had enough time alone. The blonde ducked out of his office and went to the braided boy's door.

_Still locked._

"Duo?" he called. No answer. "It's Quatre, would you please open the door?" he pleaded.

There was still silence. Quatre tried a few more times but not a sound came from the American's room. Feeling increasingly worried he returned to his office. He had to talk to someone. Trowa was with the circus troupe and unreachable for the moment (he'd already tried five times that day). Wufei wasWufei. Quatre had always been a little intimidated by the Chinese pilot and he needed someone that he could talk openly with. That left the reclusive Heero.

Quatre flipped open his laptop and quickly searched for any info on the pilot. He still didn't understand the other boy one iota but he knew Heero would listen to him. He'd always been there when the two had been staying in the Sank kingdom, and Quatre had no doubts that he could help this time. Especially if the situation concerned Duo.

"Ah-hah!" Quatre cried. A Heero Yuy had been registered at a Japanese high school two weeks ago.

_Old habits die hard, huh Heero?_

Quatre knew Heero probably wouldn't have a holophone on school grounds but he'd at least have a regular telephone. Besides, Quatre really didn't want to have Heero's icy blue eyes staring at him while he talked. He hacked into some files and found a phone number. Quickly he punched it in.

"City morgue," answered a deep voice.

Quatre blinked. "H-Heero?"

"Who is this?" growled the voice after a pause.

"Quatre," he answered.

"Quatre? What do you need?" Heero's tone showed the slightest hint of surprise. 

"Duo and I had a mission" Quatre cursed himself. He was crying already.

"Quatre?"

"It went horribly wrong! All we had to do was blow up an old MS factory that some rebels had taken control of andand there was an accident. Something went wrong in one of Duo's sections. He—"

"Is he alright?" Heero's voice cut in.

Quatre shook, realizing what Heero was thinking. "No, no, he's not dead. Heero, one of his explosives didn'tI don't know what happened. There was an orphanage next to the factory andand it was completely d-destroyed."

There was complete silence on the other end. Quatre fought for composure.

"The orphanage just exploded along with the factory. I don't know how it happened. It doesn't make any sense. Duo and I planned the whole thing out and it was flawless. I mean, that sounds arrogant but it was perfect! And now Duo isupset. He's in his room and he hasn't said a word to me even though I went to his room and he—"

"Quatre_!_" 

"Huh?" The blonde felt dazed.

"Go to bed. Cancel your plans for tomorrow morning."

"But"

"Duo is a strong individual. Take care of yourself first. I have to think."

"Can you help?" Quatre whispered.

The line was already dead.

~*~

Duo didn't sleep that night. Instead he locked himself in his room and flipped on the television, searching for news on the bombing. Destruction and flames of past and present promptly greeted him.

His heart cried out and a wave of agony rolled over him.

By himself there wasn't a need for a mask. His face was a nightmare of sorrow. And yet he found himself numb. Duo realized he'd become so good at hiding his emotions that he had lost the ability to be aware of his feelings entirely. He knew he hurt, but it didn't seem to matter. He was detached. He didn't think on how much pain he was in.

After all, how much pain had those children felt?

Stats flashed on the TV. Duo moaned.

_I brought death to eighty-six children all under the age of eleven. Twenty-three of them were infants._

The thought caught in his mind and began to play continuously like a broken record.

Duo kept watching the news. The bombing was said to be a terrorist attack. Good, the Preventors name wouldn't be tarnished. Yay for them.

_Yes, yay for them, because instead of putting out fires I just started one. And I used children's bones for firewood._

He waited. Lady Une—no, now it was _General_ Une—had arrived on the scene to "take a look" around and "evaluate" the situation. She'd be gone in ten minutes, buried in paperwork and journalists.

Duo turned off the TV and grabbed his jacket.

~*~

The heat was intense. The destruction had finally been watered down and the flames put out by the local fire department, but heat still radiated off the site.

Duo tossed another brick aside and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his borrowed police jacket. He had soot all over his face and his hands were burned. It didn't matter.

He was picking through what had been the city's main orphanage. He had sneaked through the Preventors' lingering men unnoticed and "joined" a civilian police unit. Hundreds of policemen and firemen had swarmed the downed building. Since the rescue efforts were for a civilian building, the Preventors had no jurisdiction. The MS factory was supposedly abandoned.

Duo had been working for four hours. All he had accomplished was pulling up layers of cement and wood. He was laboring right by the only standing wall of the orphanage. No one had been cleared to dig here, but Duo figured he had faced far more dangerous situations than a rickety old wall. A few people had questioned him on it, but no one had the guts to order him away.

"Hey you!" called a voice.

_Speak of the devilwait, that's me._

Duo looked up. "Yeah?"

"You shouldn't be in there! That part of the site's still unstable! If that wall comes down" a grizzled fireman pulled a finger across his throat.

Duo took in his smoky, dangerous surroundings. He almost hoped the cement wall would collapse on him and put him out of his misery.

"How long have you been in there?" asked the man.

"Four hours," Duo answered. He went back to digging.

"Jesus Christ. That's it kid, you've got to get out of there." The man began walking towards him. 

"I'm not going anywhere," Duo said in a deadly voice. "Dangerous or not, there are still _children_ trapped in here. I am not going to let them down. Don't—" Duo stopped. A dirty brown arm protruded from the rubble. Quickly he flung the debris covering the body away. A young boy of five or six years stared back at him. A large chunk of rock was imbedded in the boy's side and half of his head was crushed.

For a split second a vision of a bloody nun's habit filled his eyes. Duo blinked it away and focused on the boy. The child was undeniably dead.

He felt for a pulse anyway. Of course there wasn't one. He gathered the small broken body up in his arms and walked over to the grimy fireman.

"See if anyone has any info on him," he said.

The man nodded, taking the body from Duo. He seemed to have forgotten what he was going to say. Duo turned back around and went back to digging. His eyes were pitch black.

Two hours later Duo wasn't showing any signs of fatigue. He had channeled all of his limitless energy and was working like a madman. Perhaps he was a madman. After all, only psychopaths killed innocent children.

He'd pulled out seventeen bodies. Five were infants.

Duo knew there wouldn't be records of them. They were unknown children, just like he had been, was, and forever would be. But as he dumped corpse after corpse into the arms of tired rescue workers, he told them the child's name and age. He'd had enough experience with kids to know the age of any child he ever saw. And he'd be six feet under himself before these children would go to unmarked graves.

Stories grew about the longhaired young man who toiled selflessly under a wall of impending doom. It was rumored he worked with a demon's speed, stared with unblinking, unseeing eyes and somehow knew the names of the dead.

Duo didn't care. The wretched cement wall above him stood poised to strike. Body after body was uncovered.

Taking a short thirty-second break, Duo brushed his bangs out of his eyes and sat up. He'd reached the bottom. All he had left was the rubble right under the wall. Still no one had come to help. It was too dangerous. 

He pushed his way through the rock and glass. Sure enough, a hand poked out from under the ruins. He sighed. Numb yet wretched, he felt the wrist for a pulse. 

Duo gasped. A weak _thump thump_ trembled through the cool skin. Immediately he began tearing at the debris. A piece of glass caught his arm and created a long gash down his forearm. Blood rained down from the wound.

"I need some help over here!" Duo screamed. He clawed at more cement. Above his head the wall trembled.

"Help's coming, hold on," Duo said to the hand. He picked up the last piece of rubble and a boy of eight or so was revealed. His brown eyes were wide and pained.

Duo screamed at the rescue workers again. The boy's front was a bloody mess. 

"Hey there," he whispered to the kid. It was a voice he'd used to soothe hundreds of children. "My name's Duo. What's yours?"

The kid's dry lips bled as he spoke. "Kenneth."

"Well you're in luck," Duo said hurriedly. He ripped of his jacket and began bandaging the boy. "The EMT's are on their way and you're going to get all fixed up."

"You're lying," said Kenneth. His eyes shone with a clever strength that came from the streets.

"I never lie," Duo said. Knowing he shouldn't, but also knowing the EMT's wouldn't make it in time, he gathered the boy up in his arms. Kenneth moaned and grabbed onto Duo's shirt with a fierce grip born of pain. The braided boy began running towards the rescue workers.

"Stop, stop!" the small boy said. "My sistermy sister Hannah's in there."

"You first," Duo said. _Almost there._

Kenneth's eyes rolled back in his head. "It's too late," he said.

"No," Duo whispered. The boy's body went slack. "_NO!"_

He arrived at the medical station. Quickly he dumped the boy on a stretcher before him and made way for a doctor. The man bent over the child and checked for vital signs.

No pulse. No breath.

The doctor shook his head. Duo breathed in heavily, trying to keep himself together. 

"My fault," he whispered. "Completely and utterly mine."

The doctor took a step forward and placed a hand on Duo's shoulder. "No lad, it's not—"

"Don't _TOUCH _me!" Duo screamed, stepping back. Suddenly his eyes flashed.

_The sister_

"Shit!" he said. Duo turned away and ran back to the site. A pair of large men blocked him from getting near the wall.

"Sorry, but this area is too unstable at the moment. That wall's going to fall any moment now," said one of the men.

"You said that hours ago!" Duo said. "I have to get through! There's a girl in there who's quite possibly alive!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't allow it," said the man.

Duo's shoulders slumped. "I understand."

The men nodded. Duo looked up and smiled maniacally. With almost preternatural speed he punched the taller man straight in the gut then scooped a chunk of cement and hit the other man across the head with it. Both fell to the ground instantly. Duo took off running.

"Hannah!" he cried. "I'm coming! Just hold on!"

He fell to his knees and began digging. The wall moaned and creaked. Time was running out.

"Hannah, I'm here. Don't worry. I'll get you out," Duo chattered. He prayed the girl could hear him.

Under a rock was a pair of gleaming brown eyes that matched Kenneth's. Duo almost cried out in frustration. The child was buried under two layers of cement.

"Hannah?" he questioned, scrambling to uncover the child's body. Slowly, ever so slowly, the eyes blinked. He took that for a yes.

"Thank God," Duo said. "I need help here _NOW_!" He heard footsteps running towards him. He turned, expecting to see the EMT's coming. Instead he saw a lone figure in pale jeans and a green tank top. _What?_

Above him he heard a low rumbling sound and he knew his time had run out.

Duo turned back around and began flinging debris every which way.

_No no no no no_

Bits of cement began tumbling down and pelted Duo as he used his body to shield the girl.

_No no no no no_

"Hang on," he said. He had one layer left. He squeezed the girl's one free hand.

"Duo!" called a deep and familiar voice.

The wall roared. Duo felt the sun disappear as the falling bricks blocked it out.

Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed his sides, pulling him away. Those haunting brown eyes called out to him in terror.

_"NO!"_ he screamed. He fought for all he was worth. His hands and feet connected with flesh but the person's grip didn't yield. "Hannah!" he screamed, nails raking the arms that held him, "Hannah!"

Duo felt his body jerk back as his captor pulled him from under the toppling wall. He fought desperately and looked on as the building collapsed before him.

"_NO! HANNAH!"_

~*~


	2. Pocket Full of Posy

****

Oh Plot Bunny Files! #4: Ashes, Ashes

By: rainjewel

****

Disclaimer: I don't own a dang thing, unfortunately. If I did, there'd be no need for this fanfic or any other of my illustrious *laughs* works.

****

Author's **Note**: I have a plot bunny with chapters. This truly is a monstrosity. ~_^

~*~

"Master Quatre?"

__

I'm not home.

"Please, it's very urgent, Sir."

__

Must. Get. Out. Of. Bed.

Quatre opened his eyes and smiled sleepily. He'd never slept so long before. It felt wonderful. He pulled himself out of bed and padded over to his door.

"What is it?" he asked. He opened his door to find his housekeeper standing before him.

"Master Quatre, there's a call from a…General Une on the holophone in your office," said the woman, trying not to trip over her words.

__

Une…oh no. Quatre's world came crashing down. Suddenly all of last night's events leapt up like enemy soldiers in his memory. The fire, the horror—the look of pure agony on Duo's face. The small blonde leaned against the doorframe.

"T-tell her I'll be right there. Thank you for the message," he said. The servant curtsied and left. Quatre drew himself together like a good Gundam pilot. It was time to be strong.

__

What in Allah's name am I going to say?

Scratching his head and frowning, Quatre marched down the stairs. He walked into his office and turned to the holophone. Une's face was blank.

"Good morning," he said politely. 

"Isn't it a little late to still be sleeping, Mr. Winner?" barked the general, eyeing Quatre's pajamas and tousled hair.

"My schedule was cleared until 12:35 p.m. today because of last night's events, so I took advantage of the situation," Quatre replied.

Une's face softened. "Forgive me, Quatre. I forget that you aren't responsible for last night's actions."

"Duo is not to blame either. I don't know why the orphanage was damaged—"

"Obliterated."

Quatre winced. "Yes…but it wasn't due to any lack of skill on Duo's behalf."

"I need to find that out for myself," replied the general. "I called you so I could get a hold of him."

"What? Duo has his own line you know," Quatre said. He was irritated and saddened.

"I know. But neither his phone nor his communicator is connected. I need you to bring him to me."

"Duo needs to be left alone. Do you have any idea how he feels after—"

"Mr. Winner! I do not _care_ how he feels! Honestly, I expected more from a Gundam pilot!" Une's face dropped. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. Please, have Duo contact me within the half-hour."

The screen blipped black. Quatre sighed. "Oh Duo…"

He went to the American's bedroom. Quatre knocked a few times and called to Duo before trying the doorknob. To his surprise it actually worked.

"Duo?" he asked, stepping into the room. He looked around. The bed was untouched. The TV remote lay on the floor. Quatre turned around and saw the missing jacket.

__

What has he done now?

~*~

Heero grimaced as another steel-toed boot connected with his thigh. Duo flailed in his arms, screaming for a girl named Hannah. Grunting with exertion, he managed to wrap an arm around the American's upper arms to stop the thrashing. He could hardly see as ashes flew through the air, choking him.

He had almost made his way to his car when Duo suddenly stopped fighting. The boy became deadweight and his screams stopped, though he never ceased talking. 

"I killed her. I killed them all. I am the murderer of children," Duo murmured. 'I killed Kenneth. I killed Hannah. I am the murderer of children."

Heero's heart twisted. Duo's shock was finally wearing thin. The boy had lasted longer than he'd originally thought. _Good_. He wrenched the car door open and put Duo in the front seat of the vehicle. The braided pilot slumped against the window and curled his hands into fists. His arms shuddered and flexed.

"Quiet Duo. Calm down," Heero said, climbed into the driver's seat. He started the car and took off.

"I killed eighty-six children, twenty-three of them infants. I killed them and I saved none. I never could save anyone," Duo said, his soft mumbling continuing. He flexed his arm again and Heero saw blood drip from a nasty cut on the boy's arm. 

Heero frowned. _Shit, that's a slit vein._

"Damn it Duo," he said. He reached over and expertly pinched the back of Duo's neck. Immediately the pilot's violet eyes slammed shut and he collapsed on Heero's arm. The Japanese boy pulled the sleeping form towards him, resting Duo's head in his lap. He stroked the boy's silky brown braid.

"Shh Duo, I'm here," Heero said softly. "Everything will be just fine."

~*~

"Quatre!"

Quatre's blonde head peered up over his laptop. He'd been searching for Duo's whereabouts. Had someone just called his name? He still had forty-five minutes before his first meeting. He shuddered. To think he had meetings after last night. 

"Quatre!"

The Arabian was out of his chair almost instantaneously. There was no mistaking that voice. He ran to the front hall and was greeted by Heero, who was carrying a dirty, unconscious—

"Duo!" Quatre cried.

"There you are. Get all the bandages and antiseptic you have and meet me in his room," Heero said. 

"Is he hurt?" Quatre asked.

"Not badly. Now go," Heero said, starting his way up the stairs.

Quatre nodded and ran to the bathroom. Quickly he gathered up the first-aid supplies and then dashed up the stairs, absently wondering how Heero knew where Duo's bedroom was.

"I have the bandages," he said, rushing over to the bed where Heero had laid Duo down. Quatre gasped at the sight of the disheveled pilot. His entire body was filthy and his shirt was ripped down to rags. There was a long deep gash down his arm and both of his hands were burned.

"Hand me the antiseptic," Heero said. Quatre did.

"I thought you said he wasn't hurt badly," whispered the pale boy.

Heero cleaned the wound on Duo's arm. "He isn't. There's only this gash, the burns on his hands, and a handful of cuts and bruises on his back. Other than that he's fine."

Quatre watched in shocked silence as Heero continued to work. Without realizing it, a few sparkling tears found there way down his face.

"Where…where did you find him?" he asked.

Heero paused. "He was at the destruction site, posing as a rescue worker."

It was as if Heero had just shot him in the heart.

Quatre slumped to the floor, closing his eyes. A feeling of immense sorrow washed over him, and he clutched his chest. As if squeezing his heart to death would solve anything. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Quatre looked up into Heero's eyes. 

"He'll be awake in a few hours. I'll be back by then. Go to your meetings," said the Japanese boy.

"How in the world can I do that?" Quatre asked, tears running down his face. He really wished Trowa were here. 

"Because today you're going to be discussing the economy of L2. Duo grew up there," Heero said.

"He did? That place is a mess!" Quatre asked, unbelieving. "It's beyond help."

"Then you better do a damn good job at that meeting," Heero said. He turned and walked out the door.

~*~

Duo felt strange. His body felt lighter than it usually did, and he was weak. He didn't know why. Perhaps it was because he'd been running for so long. But he didn't know why he _was_ running in this strange familiar land, or what he was running to. Maybe he was running away from someone. Whatever the case, Duo found that his legs were pumping under him at a speed borne only from desperation.

The city he was in was filthy. The tall buildings moaned with each breeze and garbage covered the streets. Urchins, whores, and drug dealers were everywhere. None of their faces had defined features. Duo flinched at this and looked down. His breath hitched as he saw the front of his faded gray shirt. It was covered in blood. For some reason he wasn't surprised.

Rounding a corner, Duo saw black smoke rising in the sky and he suddenly understood why he was running.

The mobile suits were gone already, but the metallic smell of their battle still wafted through the air, along with the stench of blood and scorched flesh.

Duo reached the site of the destruction. Immediately he scrambled among the bricks, his young lungs gasping for breath. The flames licked at his clothes, but he ignored them.

"Father Maxwell! Sister Helen!" he called out frantically, though a small part of him knew all was lost. "It's Duo! Father! Sister"

He scurried from pile to pile looking at the bodies of his peers. There was Maria, who had always sang the solos for the choir, her pretty black hair scorched. Beside her lay Jordan, the boy who'd always made the girls swoon. _Not any more_, Duo thought. He wasn't upset; he had never gotten close to his of his fellow orphans, finding that people came and went to closely. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen were all that mattered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Duo saw white on black. "Sister Helen!"

Within a blink of an eye, he was over the rocks, passing a little too closely by a fire and burned his shoulder. He knelt down by the fallen nun. Sister Helen's eyes were closed. For the first time he saw the blonde hair that spilled out from under the habit. 

"Oh Sister," he said, knowing that this entire massacre was his fault. Duo leaned down and gathered the woman in his frail arms. He buried his face in the cloth of her robes, dry sobs racking his body. 

"Duo…"

He whipped his head up. "Sister?"

Those kind eyes fluttered. "Duo…thank the Lord, you're alive."

"I'm sorry, Sister. I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I did this, I did all of this."

"No child, no," Sister Helen said. With obvious pain she raised a hand and cupped his face. "Beautiful Duo. I've loved you so. Father Maxwell did too. Never doubt that child, never."

"I love you too," Duo sobbed. Sister Helen's eyes slid shut and her touch weakened. He clutched her tightly. "Don't go Sister, please. Please don't leave me."

"I'm sorry, but I must," she whispered. "Get away from here child, it's not safe. May angels watch over you."

He shook his head. "No! Don't!"

Sister Helen's gentle hand slid from his cheek. Her body went lax in his grip.

Duo cried out. Squeezing his eyes shut, he bowed his head and whispered every prayer he knew. Our Father's and Hail Mary's dripped from his mouth along with his tears. He sat there, rocking back and forth with her body in his arms, sobbing into her bloodied habit.

Finally, the shouts and footsteps of soldiers disturbed his grief. Duo looked up, his face streaked with dirt and tears. With a quiet goodbye he looked to Sister Helen.

Only to find that the beloved woman was no longer there. Stifling a scream, Duo dropped the body and scrambled backwards, scratching his hands against the brick and glass. 

Before him lay a small child with brown eyes. She wore a blue sweater with the name "Hannah" blazing across its front.

~*~

Heero walked through the door with weary eyes. He slipped out of his jacket and went into Quatre's office. He allowed a sigh to escape his lips as he placed the papers on the blonde Arabian's desk for later reading. He made a mental note to erase all the memory of his previous hacking…he'd used Sally Po's code and he didn't think she'd be too pleased if she was accused of sneaking into top secret government files.

It was sad to think that they were government files.

Quatre was going to throw a fit. Absently Heero looked around for a Kleenex box, making sure there was one in the room. Rising to his feet, he searched the office for weapons. He found a gun and a rapier. He carefully hid them in another room. Quatre wasn't exactly…stable when he was extremely upset.

Heero fingered his cell phone, wondering if he should call Trowa again. He didn't know why the boy even had a phone. He was never in his trailer. Heero remembered the nights when Trowa would slip away to sleep in the lion's cage, his heart troubled. The tall boy seemed to find the answers to his terrible questions when he lay amongst the snoring beasts.

__

Too bad the lions don't have their own number, Heero thought. Then his eyebrow twitched. _But someone else does._

Quickly he scanned Quatre's address book. With an inward smile he punched the number into his phone.

"Hello!" answered the chipper voice. 

"Hello Cathrine," he said. "I need to talk to Trowa."

"He's not here. Perhaps you should try his trailer," 

"He's not there. I need you to get him."

The voice was strong and shrill. "Who is this?" 

Heero winced. "Heero. Heero Yuy."

"Oh." There was a long pause. "I'll go get him."

"Thank you Cathrine," Heero said. _Mission Complete._

A few minutes later Trowa's velvet voice came through.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" 

"Nowhere important."

"Can you come to the Winner Mansion?"

"I…"

Heero looked at the papers. "Quatre's going to need you."

"I'll be there in two and half hours."

"I'll make sure there's a car for you."

The line went dead.

Heero smiled. _The magic word of the day is "Quatre."_

He slipped out of the office and went to Duo's room. Silently he opened the door and looked to the still form in the bed. The ex-pilot was curled around a white pillow, his hands clutching it so tightly his knuckles were white. The reddened bandages that marred his bare back hurt Heero's eyes. The American's lips were moving at an incredibly fast rate. Heero came to the edge of the bed and knelt.

Duo suddenly moaned, but then resumed his whispers.

"Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your Name, your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our sins

as we forgive those who sin against us. Do not bring us to the test but deliver us from evil. For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours now and for ever."

Heero recoiled as if struck. Duo _never_ prayed. He was the God of Death. Gods don't pray to other gods. He reached out, gently touching a hand to Duo's lips as if to silence them. The American pilot paused and breathed in deeply then poured another prayer forth, his lips flying against Heero's palm.

He lifted his hand, a small frown on his face. He rocked back on his heels and stood, looking over Duo. It would take roughly another half-hour until the ex-Deathscythe pilot came fully around. He needed to go take a shower (digging was dirty business) and he had to think of what he was going to say to the braided boy when he woke up.

Heero turned and walked out through the door. He had just turned the shower on when he heard the scream.

~*~

Trowa stepped off of the plane, trying his damndest not break out in a run towards the Winner limousine. Thoughts of Quatre filled his head. None of them were good. Heero was here, and Trowa found it hard to believe anything could be a good thing if the Japanese pilot thought it serious enough for him to come out of hiding.

At the baggage terminal, a young man in a suit came up to Trowa. A small "W" was embroidered on his lapel. He recognized him as the chauffeur.

"Mr. Barton?" asked the black-capped man. Trowa nodded, reaching out and grabbing his one duffel bag.

"Please come with me," said the chauffeur after a pause. Trowa said nothing and strode forward in front of the man. He wanted to be in that car _now_.

With hidden impatience he waited for the man to take his bag and open the door for him. He gracefully slid into the backseat. The chauffeur started the car. 

"Where is Quatre?" he asked politely.

"Uh…I'm not supposed to release that information," said the man.

Trowa's worry increased tenfold. He felt sweat trickle down his back. "That's understandable."

He took out a long throwing knife of Cathrine's that he'd brought with him and began turning it over in his hands, adding in fancy flicks and tosses when he felt like it. 

He did this for a whole minute and half, feeling weak for resorting to this.

"So, where's Quatre?" he asked.

The chauffeur folded. "He's in the city, discussing some colony's economy."

"Take me there."

Trowa frowned at himself as the car accelerated. Within ten minutes the limousine swung around in front of one of the tall buildings of Winner Enterprises. Trowa bounded from the car and told the driver to take his bag to the Mansion. He would go home with Quatre.

Quickly he walked into the building. The secretary popped up her pretty head. Trowa recognized her as one of Quatre's sisters. Her dark Arabic features said it all.

"Can I help you, Sir?" she asked. Trowa paused, quelled his annoyance. Her nametag read "Mylaré."

"My name is Trowa Barton," he said. "Where's Quatre?"

The woman didn't blink. "Barton? I remember Quatre mentioning you. He's in a meeting. You can't see him yet, but I'm sure he'll be out in fifteen minutes or so."

"What floor is he on?" Trowa asked.

"I can't reveal that information, Sir," she said, looking back to her computer. She clacked away on her keyboard.

Trowa was beginning to really hate those words. "Then I'll find it myself."

Mylaré looked up from her monitor. "Wait, that won't be necessary. Trowa Barton, you have clearance. He's on the fifth floor, third door down on your left."

"…Oh. Thanks." 

"I need a signature," she said, holding up a document. She held out a pen to him.

Trowa took the pen. "Sorry."

"There's no need to apologize. You're just lucky I thought to check you out," Mylaré said.

Trowa nodded and signed the paper. Then he turned and dashed up the stairs, foregoing the elevator. He reached the fifth floor. Trowa looked up and down the halls and saw no one. Somewhat satisfied, he picked out a shadowed doorway from which the diplomats would pass once finished with their meeting and hid in the darkness it provided. 

He really didn't need to be hidden; Trowa just hated being conspicuous. 

Seven minutes and thirty-six seconds later, he heard the door open. Smart men with wearied eyes filed tiredly past him, punching numbers into cell phones and shuffling the papers in their hands. 

Trowa waited patiently for Quatre. The blonde Arabian didn't come.

Six minutes and seventeen seconds later, Trowa's curiosity and anxiety got the better of him. Carefully he rounded the corner and walked into the conference room.

Sitting in a chair, back bent with his beautiful little golden head against the table, was Quatre. His arms lay slack against the wood. Sitting at the far end of the table with a curious expression on her face was Relena Dorlian.

"Good afternoon, Vice Foreign Minister Dorlian," Trowa said. He looked at her out of politeness, then locked his eyes on Quatre. The boy's sea-colored eyes were closed and his mouth was slack. His skin was pale…much too pale.

Relena's eyes focused and a look of surprise crossed her face. "I didn't expect you to be here. Hello Trowa, it's good to see you. And please, call me Relena."

"What," he asked, motioning to the sleeping Winner heir, "Happened here?"

"I don't quite know," Relena said with a ghost of a smile. "After the meeting he was worrying over all the progress we didn't make, then he simply laid his head down on the desk and I think he just fell asleep. Very odd, don't you think?"

"Perhaps," Trowa said. He gently walked over to where Quatre was sitting and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Quatre," he said. "Wake up little one."

The blonde didn't stir. Trowa frowned inwardly. As an ex-Gundam pilot he was surprised Quatre's reflexes weren't kicking in. However, he wasn't going to press the issue.

Relena stood and walked over to the little Arabian, looking down on him with fond eyes. She ran a finger down the back of his head. "He's really worked up over the situation in L2. He tried to get a week's worth of work finished in three hours. And now with this mess of the poor orphanage everything has had to be shoved to the back burner. Trowa, please take care of him. Tell him that I'll handle the orphanage situation. He seems to be lost."

__

As we all are.

Trowa looked at Relena with appreciation. "You're a strong woman, Relena. Thank you."

"Thank you as well. If it weren't for all of you, none of my dreams will ever be realized," Relena said. With that she turned and left the room.

Trowa looked down to Quatre. He walked over to the holophone. Reading off a list, he typed in the extension. Mylaré's face popped up on the screen.

"Qu—Mr. Barton?" said the shocked secretary. 

"Mr. Winner is preoccupied at this moment and will probably remain that way for the rest of the day. Can representatives fill in for the rest of his duties?" Trowa said. He hoped his "clearance" carried a lot of weight.

"Sir, I'm not supposed—"

"You're baby brother is passed out at the table due to exhaustion," Trowa said. "I think he needs a small break."

Mylaré nodded. "It can't be helped. Get him home."

"Please call the limousine." Trowa said. He flicked off the screen. 

__

Kat, what is wrong? He thought to himself. The kind of sleep Quatre was in wasn't one from total exhaustion. At least, not from one physically. There weren't any telltale signs. No, this was more of a…Trowa's eyebrows twitched as the realization hit him. This was more of a spiritual thing. The green-eyed boy almost smacked himself over the head for being so careless.

Gently he picked Quatre up in his arms. "Of course, my little empathetic one, how could I have forgotten?"

Quatre half-mumbled, half-whimpered in his slumber and curled like a cat in Trowa's arms. The ex-Heavyarms pilot adjusted his hold and then went downstairs and out the back. The limousine was waiting for him as promised.

Trowa practically glided into the vehicle, trying to disturb the Winner heir as little as possible. "Home, now. Step on it," he said.

The tires squealed and Trowa found himself frowning again.

~*~

Duo's eyes snapped open and he woke to a scream. He jumped out of his bed—_Bed? How did I get here?_—and whipped his head around looking for the sound. Another scream sounded after another. The sound seemed to originate from right in the room, but he couldn't make anything out. Another agonized screech reverberated around the room and Duo covered his ears sinking to the floor.

Suddenly the door burst open. Deafened by the sound of the screaming Duo looked up at Heero with pained eyes and saw the Japanese boy mouth his name. 

But the vision only lasted a second longer as Duo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the screaming. He wanted to call out to Heero for help, but his throat seemed so raw he couldn't talk.

Suddenly two strong hands were on his shoulders and Duo felt himself being shaken for all he was worth. The screaming became more like shrieks and sobs. He felt himself running out of breath. Nothing had ever sounded more pained in his entire life. Then a hand clamped down on his mouth and Duo was pushed back and slammed against the ground, one arm pinning his shoulders.

The screaming stopped. Duo found he couldn't breathe.

Feeling hysterical he opened his eyes and tried to fight off whoever was pinning him. Shockingly enough, Heero's blurred face hovered above his, and for once there was a hint of…_fear_? in his blue eyes. The Japanese boy removed his hand from Duo's mouth and snatched the American's flailing arms. Duo heard sobs again and began twitching violently.

"Duo!" Heero screamed in his face. 

The American pilot locked his eyes on Heero's and wondered why his face felt welt. 

"Calm down, damnit!" Heero yelled again. Duo closed his eyes and tried to block out the sobbing. Gritting his teeth together, the sounds miraculously hushed, leaving only the sound of his heaving breath.

And then he finally realized that the screaming and the sobs had been his own.

"Oh God," he moaned softly. His energy left him, but his body seemed to not pay attention. His abused lungs began to hyperventilate, wracking his body with painful spasms as he gasped for air. 

"Just breathe, Duo," Heero said from above him. Duo fought hard with his own body, and finally managed to relax a little more. His body stopped its spasms, but he still felt the need to gasp in large amounts of air. Heero, looking a little worried sat back up and pulled Duo into a sitting position. The American slumped against the wall. 

Duo sat and stared at Heero for a long time, piecing together what had transpired. The other boy watched him with unblinking eyes.

__

The orphanage. The one they blew up because I stole—no, the one I destroyed. The eighty-six children I went to help, to help Sister…Hannah. To help Hannah but the sky fell—the building fell and I was pulled away. I was—he pulled me away. He pulled me away and left Hannah to die and let the murderer live.

Duo's eyes burned as a surge of guilty anger ran through him. "You bastard!" he screamed. His right punch sailed out as he launched his body at Heero. The Japanese boy deftly caught his fist and remained brick-sturdy as Duo slammed into him, screaming, "You let her die!"

"I wasn't going to let you die," Heero said. His tone was final.

And just like that, the energy was gone again. Duo crumpled, his arms dropping to catch himself as he bowed his head to the floor. He felt his forehead brush Heero's knees.

"Why? You know what I am? Oh God, God knows what I've done," he whispered. "I took revenge on the ones I was supposed to protect…the ones I was supposed to avenge. I…I…I am the murderer—"

"Stop that," came Heero's flat dead voice.

Duo obeyed out of habit. Tears threatened replace his words, but he held them back, causing his body to shake violently.

…_Myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultallmyfaultmyfault…_

Heero grabbed Duo's shoulders and pulled the boy up to a kneeling position. Duo rested his hands on his knees.

__

…Myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault…

Duo saw Heero look into his eyes, reading him. "You weren't properly informed, Duo," he said.

Duo fought for focus. "W-what?"

"You were set up," Heero explained. "There was a secret base operating out of the orphanage consisting of ex-White Fang soldiers. The Preventors _knew_, Duo. They placed explosives in the building that would be triggered when the bombs you set detonated. It was a set up."

"I—I don't understand," Duo said, looking at Heero's blank face. _Set up?_

"Yes you do," Heero said.

Duo stared. His mind whirred madly. He'd been set up, used as a tool.

"The Preventors used me to blow up innocent children?" he whispered. Heero nodded. "The knowingly let me murder eighty-six kids?"

There was a slight wince from the Perfect Soldier.

Duo looked at his hands, finally seeing the bandages on the burns and the gauze on his arm. The sorrow he felt transformed into a blind rage. He rose slowly to his feet, his shaking quelled. Heero stood up.

"Duo…"

The American looked at Heero with somewhat dead eyes. Didn't Heero always keep a gun against the small of his back…yes, there it was. The door was only a miniscule five feet away.

Suddenly Duo sprang past Heero. With quick thief's hands he snatched up the gun from where it was pressed against the Japanese boy's back. Heero wheeled sharply and reached out to grab his arm, but Duo danced away, a bright light shining from his eyes.

__

I am Shinigami, the God of Death. Those who cross me are damned. 

He turned and dashed down the stairs, remembering to flip his braid over his shoulder so that Heero couldn't catch it. With a fitting demon's speed, he skidded across the hall, feeling Heero's feet pounding a heartbeat behind him. 

Duo began giggling hysterically. _The Perfect Soldier is chasing me. Doesn't Shinigami usually chase the soldiers?_

In five seconds he was out the door, down the steps, and in the garage. He knew that if he faltered for just a moment, Heero would be on him, the gun gone, and the chance lost. It made him feel giddy.

__

Come and get me, Heero. You wanna test Shinigami?

He leapt onto a red motorcycle and switched it on. Gunning the engine, he took off, just in time to see Heero grab his own bike. Duo smiled and rode as fast as he could.

He didn't even notice he was crying.

~*~


	3. Ashes, Ashes

**Oh Plot Bunny! Files #4: Ashes, Ashes**

**By: rainjewel**

**Author's Note**: Section Three has arrived! *Motions for blaring trumpets, hears screeching bazookas* Ernever mind. Oh yeah, my new warning is a little late. Earlier I warned of shounen ai 1+2, but now I'm going to warn you about 3+4not like these should require warnings. It's two people in love. Freak out.

~*~

Stepping out of the limousine, Trowa heard the sound of a motorcycle engine. He paused for a moment, Quatre just a bundle in his arms, then saw a streak of crimson flying out the driveway, a long russet braid tossing in the wind. A second later a blue motorbike took off, following the first one.

_That's either a good thing or a bad thing,_ Trowa thought. Given the speed the bikes were goingprobably a bad thing. With an unexpressed sigh, Trowa turned and walked into the house. There was nothing he could do about it now. 

The butler met him at the door. His face contorted into a mask of concern, but he asked no questions. Trowa recognized him as the man he'd seen when he'd first met Quatre all those months ago. He nodded to him out of politeness and ducked into the Arabian's office.

In the corner of the office was a plush leather couch. Gently Trowa lowered Quatre onto it, propping his head up on a pillow that looked like it'd been used for this very purpose numerous times. As Trowa finally slipped his arms out from underneath the boy's body, Quatre's eyes fluttered.

"Trowa" he said in a kind of wondrous manner.

"Good afternoon," Trowa replied, looking down at the smaller boy. Quatre smiled and closed his eyes for an instant, but then his eyes opened wide and he sprang off of the couch.

"_Trowa!_" he cried. Quatre all but _dove_ for the green-eyed pilot and wrapped his arms around him. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"Hey Kat," Trowa whispered. He patted the blonde's back shyly. 

"You're worried," the Arabian whispered, pulling away. Trowa let his arm drop.

"I got a call from Heero a few hours ago," he said. "I assumed he was going to tell me what was going on, but" Trowa trailed off and fluttered his fingers towards the window, indicating the dusty air outside where Duo and Heero had been.

"Heero—that's right, he's here," Quatre said, walking to the window he pressed his head against the pane.

"Not any more," Trowa said. "He left with Duo."

Quatre's eyes clouded over at the comment. Trowa took a step and stood behind the blonde, placing a comforting hand on the small of Quatre's back. The shorter boy leaned back against him, his hair brushing against Trowa's chin.

The green-eyed boy fought for composure. Although he'd confessed his feelings for the blonde, and Quatre to him, he still found physical contact hard to swallow.

"What went wrong?" he whispered.

"Duo and I went on a mission," Quatre said. His voice suddenly took on a cold, hollow sound. 

_He sounds like he's using the Zero system,_ Trowa thought uneasily. He waited for the blonde to continue.

"Everything went as planned. The explosives were laid in an old MS factory. Duo and I were out in seven minutes. I pressed the trigger and my half exploded, but when Duowhen Duo's section went offit somehow caused another building to collapse. An orphanage was destroyed; completely and utterly destroyed. 

Trowa hazarded a look at Quatre. The Arabian's face was as blank as a piece of paper. He himself felt sick. He'd heard of the orphanage mishap, but hadn't known of Quatre's involvement.

Trowa had never been one to speak, and he certainly didn't know what to say now. So he let his emotions take over, following the advice of an old friend. Trowa wrapped one lanky arm around Quatre's waist, pulling him even closer.

"Are you alright?" he whispered after a moment, his lips gently brushing against the blonde's ear. Quatre sighed and brought his hand up to cup the side of Trowa's face. The brown-haired boy held back a shy shudder and leaned into the touch.

"The worst has passed," Quatre whispered. He turned around in Trowa's grasp and looked up at him with wide eyes. "I'll be okay," he said. Gently he laid his head down on the taller boy's chest. "You're here, I'll be okay."

"If you say so," Trowa whispered. He felt uncertain. For him to influence someone's emotional well being was a frightening thought.

"Don't worry Trowa, at least not about me," Quatre said. He rubbed his cheek against the taller boy's chest.

Trowa grasped the Arabian by the upper arms and gently held him at arm's length. He searched Quatre's ocean blue eyes for a moment, then relaxed. "Well then," he said softly, "All that leaves is Duo."

Quatre nodded. "Let's pray Heero knows what he's doing."

_Because Duo certainly doesn't,_ he thought. He raised his green eyes and looked through the window.

"Heero" Trowa said absently. He smiled without humor. "Doesn't he always know what he's doing?"

~*~

_Too slow, too _slow_! When did I get so weak?_

Heero gritted his teeth as he sped along the road on his motorcycle. Duo was in front of him only by a few meters or so. He could jump that distance easily enough, but he knew that if he triedlet's just say he'd probably meet the real Shinigami. An unstable Duo Maxwell with a gun wasn't something to be toyed with. If he jumped him, he could probably get the gun and the boy off of the bike. But they'd probably both end up dead. 

How in the world had he let Duo get a hold of his gun? Wasn't his reaction time supposed to be faster than Duo's? He'd let himself get soft during the months after the war. _Way_ too soft. 

Heero struggled with himself. He'd worked hard to drop the "Perfect Soldier" that lay within him, that had been so very much a part of him during the war. And now that he'd finally manage to lay down his defenses—for him, anyway—all he got in return was Duo stripping him of his gun—a gun that he wasn't even _supposed_ to have—and running off to do God knows what.

Perhapsperhaps he should let that soldier

_No!_ Heero shook his head. He'd never let himself become that automated killing machine again. _Never_.

He didn't need it anyway, did he? Heero narrowed his icy blue eyes, letting them focus solely on Duo's back and flowing braid. He saw the hitching breaths and tensed muscles of the American. Occasionally he'd hear a mad cackle from the pilot, but mostly all he heard was the harsh sound of the wind against his ears. 

He was glad for the noise. Heero was used to seeing Duo's bright smile and constant giddy manner. Even when he was angry and in full Shinigami-mode he was never, _ever_ this manic. Duo was resilient and hard to break. He took everything in and reacted emotionally, but never stupidly. Okay, sometimes he didn't plan things out as well as Heero would have liked. But he never went into battle without knowing exactly what he was getting into and he knew what he was going to do. Duo definitely had a plan for this excursion. And it wasn't a pretty one.

He heard another insane giggle over the roar of the rushing air. For the first time ever, Heero wondered if Duo would be able to bounce back from this.

It was the last thought he permitted himself to have. Duo had just turned onto the ramp that led into the city. He was going into a civilian area armed and half-crazed.

Heero wasn't surprised.

~*~

The world was a large blur. And it wasn't due to the tears or the speed he was travelling at. Everything was coated in a red haze, and the forms he saw were shapeless.

_But I like black. I don't want to see red. I want it painted black_.

Duo smiled and began humming to himself. He shook his head to clear his senses. How could he aim if everything was a blurred mess? 

He knew he could do it. The other pilots might think him moronic and a fool, but he knew what he was doing. 

_I am Shinigami. _

Duo laughed out loud. And what a piece of shit Shinigami had turned out to be. 

But enough on that. It was time to shake Heero off his tail. If he took his time to stop, then he'd undoubtedly be caught. Heero would be on him like white on rice.

_Ah, but there's brown rice too._ This thought struck him as extremely funny and he giggled like a maniac.

_Concentrate! _Socivilian area. He could just kill the engine in the Preventor parking lot and go into a slide. But he'd have to move fast. Heero would undoubtedly be expecting it. Which meant that he had to deter the Japanese pilot somehow.

Duo wrinkled his brow, then grinned from ear to ear. Of course, that was so simple.

Darting in and out of traffic, carefully avoiding civilians—he'd killed enough for one day, he thought—Duo finally brought the bike around to the block the Preventor building was on. Heero had apparently decided that following Duo and not trying to jump him was the safest way of pursuit. He could almost feel the other bike's tires on his own.

"Omae o korosu, ne?" he whispered to himself. _We'll see about that._

He quickly killed the engine as he turned sharply into the parking lot. Swinging his weight to the left he turned the bike on his side. Quickly Duo hitched his leg up and away from pavement and screeching metal. Heero killed his own engine around, swinging the bike around to curve around Duo's. The braided boy gritted his teeth together and pushed himself off of the bike. Ignoring the pain he felt as his skin met pavement, he crouched and fired off one shot into the front tire of Heero's motorcycle. 

The Japanese boy jumped before the bullet even hit the rubber. Duo damned himself and sprang up from his position. Heero was faster than he was. Taking off at a breakneck run he darted amongst the parked cars while Heero simply ran over them, his sure feet pounding into the steel. 

With an adrenaline-induced surge of energy he shot out from the cars and sprinted up the steps. He slammed through the door, bruising his shoulder and cracking the glass.

"Mr. Maxwell!" came a cry. Duo saw one of the secretaries stand up in alarm at his entrance.

"G'morning!" he called cheerfully, dashing for the stairs, "Isn't it a great day for killing?"

"Wha—?!"

"Get some men after him, now!" Heero called from behind him. The secretary made a small "eeping" sound and looked on dumbly.

Duo smiled as he heard Heero curse. As his foot hit the first step he heard the sound of a fist connecting with glass. Suddenly the alarms in the building went off.

_Smooth move, Heero. But you forget that I thrive on chaos._

Duo began laughing again. People came flooding down the stairs. He simply elbowed his way up. Living on the streets had taught him how to get through a crowd quickly and easily. 

Now why in the hell did Une have to have an office on one of the top floors?

~*~

Wufei scowled as the alarms went off. Didn't these damn people know how to get anything right around here? Now what was coming, the apocalypse? 

Given events of the past couple of days, he almost wished it were.

"Come on, woman, we have a fire drill," he called to his partner.

"Wufei, I have a name," said Sally Po, sending him an amused glare.

"Congratulations. Now let's get out of here and see what blunder we've made today," he said. He stood up, grabbed his jacket and tossed Sally hers.

"Ever the optimist, ne Wufei?" Sally said. She chuckled, but behind it was a mask of worry. Why _were_ the alarms ringing? Was Une alright?

Wufei lifted an arrogant eyebrow and opened the door. "Coming?"

"Yeah. Une can take—"

A loud ringing sound broke through the air, making Wufei stop. Swiftly he retrieved his communicator and clicked the ON button.

"Wufei," he answered.

"Get to Une's room _now_!" yelled Heero's voice. "Duo's planning on—"

"That baka!" Wufei interrupted, understanding flowing through his body. He slammed the phone shut. "Woman, get out of this building now!" 

"What was that about?" Sally asked, her worry even more evident. Wufei quickly withdrew his gun and clicked the safety off.

"Sally, don't make me repeat myself," he said. He pushed her through the door.

The woman smiled. He _was_ a Gundam pilot. "'Bout time you learned my name, Wuffers." She ducked down the hallway and disappeared into a hallway.

"_Woman!_" 

But Wufei would unleash his justice later. He dashed off in the direction of the General's office.

~*~

_Last step. Last step in Hell. Taking the dive now._

Duo smirked. _Shall I plug my nose?_

He turned sharply and ran down the corridor. He'd gained more ground then he thought he'd had originally. But not enough to be completely safe. He was never completely safe.

_No, no one is. Not even innocent children_.

Duo nodded. He skidded to a stop before the door.

_Knock, knock._

He reached for the handle but the door opened before he could touch it. Duo couldn't believe his luck.

"Morning!" he cried cheerily. General Une's eyes widened as she saw Duo Maxwell standing in front of her. He raised his gun and stuck the barrel under her chin.

"Let's step inside, shall we?"

"Maxwell!" called a familiar voice.

_Wuffie?_ Duo scowled and threw his weight forward, sending him and Une back into the room. He sprang up on his feet and slammed the door shut, swiftly locking it. He didn't know how long it'd hold.

He turned back to Une, who was slowly getting to her feet. He pounced, grabbing her slender wrists with one of his hands and straddling her body between his legs.

"Duo Maxwell, get off me this instant!" she ordered. 

"I'll consider itnope, not happenin' Lady," he drawled slowly, giddily. He watched the woman's brown eyes hardened at his use of the title "Lady." _Yeah, that was really ladylike behavior you showed back there. But then, you always had were a deceitful bitch back in the good ol' days of OZ._ His anger rose drastically."So, I heard you planted bombs in the orphanage."

Une's eyes widened surprise at his statement. "What!"

Duo felt his anger boil over. The hysteria he'd been feeling suddenly disappeared. Violet-eyes glassed over with malice.

"Don't fuck with me," he growled. "You used me as a tool, eh?"

"Duo, I don't have the slightest clue what you're talking about! What do you mean, bombs in the orphanage?" Une retorted.

Shots suddenly were fired, cracking the wooden door. Heero was here. Wufei's indecipherable yells could be heard through the walls.

Duo snarled at the sound and dragged Une over to corner. He hauled her to her feet and pressed her up against a wall. 

"You fucked with Shinigami," he whispered. He traced her neck with the gun's barrel. "_You_ _dared to fuck with Shinigami!_" he screamed in her face.

Another shot. Duo turned around and fired a shot of his own at the door.

"Stop it!" he screamed. _Why the hell does Heero always have to get in my way?_

"Duo, I didn't know," Une said softly, drawing his attention back to her. "The orders to blow the MS factory came from higher officers."

"Stop lying!" he spat. "Fuck you. You purposefully didn't tell me about the operation going on at the orphanage because you knew I wouldn't blow it!" His red haze of anger was starting to be pierced by sanity. He didn't like it one bit. It hurt. Quickly he wrapped a hand around Une's throat, cutting off her air supply. Surprisingly she didn't even struggle. 

Heero was breaking the door down. Duo was surprised the other boy hadn't resorted to explosives yet.

_Cocky bastard._

"Don't fuck with me Heero!" he warned. He fired off another shot at the door, making a new keyhole.

"Kuso!" came Heero's muffled voice. Wufei called the Japanese boy's name.

"Youyou shot him!" Une gasped. Finally she raised her hands to his grasp, weakly trying to pry his fingers off. "Duo stop this! Everyone was manipulated!"

"You think II actually got the bastard?" Duo whispered. His resolve was beginning to flag. He'd shot Heero? _Oh God_

"Duo," Une whispered, her hands dropping and her eyes glazed, "You were tricked into killing innocent lives. Everyone here can sympathize with you. Don't let your rage trick you into killing more."

The General's eyes slid shut and Duo felt the woman go limp in his grip. Behind the violet-eyed pilot the door disintegrated in a cloud of smoke. He didn't even register it. 

_I killed eighty-six children. Do I have to kill Une and Heero as well?_

"Goddamn it!" Duo screamed, dropping his hand and letting Une slide to the ground. He dropped the weapon to his side. Letting out a wounded scream, he curled his hand in a fist and punched the wall where Une's face had been. "Goddamn you all!"

There was a hand on his shoulder. He ducked down under the touch and struck out with a fist. Heero jumped out of the way to miss the American's blow.

"Don't touch me!" Duo cried, rising the gun directly in line with Heero's eyes. "Why couldn't you just leave me?" he asked, "I was supposed to die with her! But you followed me and dragged me away and now you've followed me here! Why can't you leave me alone, Heero! I was supposed to die with her—I was supposed to die with _them_with Father Maxwell and Sister Helen"

"Duo, I told you I wasn't going to let you die," Heero said calmly, staring down the barrel of the other pilot's gun. There was a bullet wound in the Japanese boy's right shoulder.

_Shit Shinigami, we've fucked up._ An irrational fear rose up in his chest. He had almost killed Heero.

"Why?" Duo asked, in torment. "Whatever happened to omae o korosu?' Why don't you just put me out of my misery and finish out your threat!"

"That can be arranged, Maxwell," said a familiar voice. Duo swiveled his eyes and saw the figure of Wufei, the Chinese boy's gun trained on his eyes. 

It was all the time Heero needed.

Duo screamed as the Japanese boy suddenly sprang forward, his strong fingers wrapping around the barrel of the gun, almost wrenching it out of his grip. 

_No Heero! I'll shoot you, God I'm going to shoot you!_

Duo pulled back, terrified of harming the blue-eyed pilot. He fell back against the floor, taking Heero with him. The 01 pilot twisted the automatic harshly to the left. Duo cried out in pain as he heard his wrist dislocate with the movement, but he hung on with all his might. He wasn't strong enough to wrestle the gun away from Heero, he knew. 

"Let go Duo," Heero growled at him. 

"No, I'll shoot you, I'll shoot you!" Duo cried frantically. Blood dripped from the bullet wound on Heero's shoulder onto his chin and neck. Thoroughly afraid beyond comprehension, Duo pulled out all the stops.

Heero wrenched the gun farther to the left. Duo let the weapon rotate in his grip, keeping his hand on the trigger. Now the barrel was aiming at him. He stopped the struggle. Heero paused.

"Shinigami doesn't care if he kills innocents," he whispered. "It's time to show him to his own grave."

Heero's eyes flashed. "No!"

Duo squeezed the trigger.

~*~

Trowa smoothed out the new sheets with his graceful hands. From across the bed Quatre smiled at him as the blonde tucked the edge under the mattress. Quatre's motions were a little unsure and he made the bed rather messily. He'd never really made a bed before. Trowa supposed they could get the servants to do it, butfor some reason that just didn't feel right. Besides, Duo had left such a muddy and ashen, not to mention _bloody_ mess that if a maid were to come in her the cops would be called before you could say "911."

Trowa picked up the comforter from the floor and flung it across the bed, the fabric settling perfectly. 

Quatre shook his head. "How in the world do you _do_ that?"

"Practice," Trowa replied. For all of Cathrine's housekeeping fanaticism, she'd probably chop him up into stew meat before she made his bed.

"Oh." Quatre fluffed a pillow, mushing it into a whole different shape. He began arranging the pillows. Trowa felt the corner of his lips twitch and he bent down to pick up the remains of Duo's shirt. 

_Garbage, definitely. Unless Duo's going to take to wearing bandannas as shirts_.

For some reason this notion didn't strike Trowa as that unfeasible. He frowned to himself. Black humor suited him too well.

"Quatre," he asked, turning, "Where should we put the clothes and sheets? We can't throw them in the garbage as they are."

Quatre frowned in thought. "We'll just shove them in a sack and burn them when it's convenient, I suppose. Hey, where are you going?"

Trowa opened the bedroom door. "To get marshmallows."

Quatre laughed. The taller ex-Gundam pilot shut the door and eased himself down the stairs in all actuality, he just needed to grab a sack and perhaps a glass of water For some reason his throat felt thick and dry.

Passing through the kitchen, Trowa grabbed a garbage sack and helped himself to a glass of water. The cool liquid felt good against his throat. 

_Hmm, a sore throat._ _Perhaps I'm getting sick?_ Trowa shook his head. The only thing he was sick of was killing. He'd had his dance with death and had found he wasn't a good partner.

On the way back to Duo's room Trowa noticed the mail lying on a hallway table. He picked it up and took a side trip to Quatre's office, dropping the envelopes on the blonde's desk. It was then that he saw the small stack of papers. On top of the first sheet was a square yellow post-it note with Quatre's name on it. The writing was small and precise; Trowa recognized it immediately.

He picked up the first sheet of paper and read it. Then he picked up the next one and the one after that. He dropped the garbage bag.

_Holy shit._ Trowa felt nausea wash over him as he speed-read the documents. _This whole thing was planned out._

"Trowa?"

He looked up to see Quatre's concerned face. The Arabian stood in the doorway. He couldn't speak. Quatre came forward.

"What are you doing?"

Trowa looked to the papers, to Quatre, and back down again. His throat was so dry it itched.

He held out the documents to the blonde. "I have something you need to read, little one."

Looking at Trowa with puzzled eyes, Quatre took the papers from him. The green-eyed boy motioned to the documents with a lift of his shoulder, and the Arabian boy bent his head to read.

Trowa stood and watched Quatre, seeing the emotions flit across the pale boy's face. After a few pages the blonde sank to the floor, reading hungrily. His eyes were wide. Trowa knelt beside him. 

Finishing the last page, Quatre turned and looked to him. With shaking hands he put the papers down on the ground. He looked shell-shocked. 

"II have a calla call that I need to make," he said, nodding slightly to himself as he did so. 

"To the General?" Trowa asked, knowing the answer. Quatre hadn't told him that the mission had come from the Preventors, but he knew. Even though Wufei was technically the only one who was a true "Preventor," all of them had been called in at one time or another for "favors." Duo actually spent the majority of his time there, whenever he wasn't working at the scrap yard with Hilde. 

_Bet that's going to change in a hurry._

Quatre rose to his feet, his face blank in a way that troubled Trowa. He knew that the Arabian contained a great deal of strength, but he had expected a moreemotional response from the blonde. Quatre looked like he'd just had a couple hits of the Zero system.

Trowa came and stood behind Quatre as he flicked on the holophone. Just as the young heir was going to send a transmission to Une, a bright face appeared on the screen. 

"S-Sally?" Quatre started. He'd never received a call from her. Usually it was Wufei.

"Hello Quatre, Trowa," said the braided woman. She had a smile on her face, but her eyes were pinched and tired. "I'm afraid I have more bad news."

Quatre looked at her, his expression dazed. "Wha?"

Trowa took over, trying to keep his concern in check. "What do you mean?"

"You need to come to the hospital immediately. There's been a shooting."

~*~


	4. We All Fall...Down

****

Oh Plot Bunny Files! #4: Ashes, Ashes

By: rainjewel

****

A/N: And so all good things must come to an end. I promise that I will eventually write a decent story instead of a plot bunny. Silly things just keep popping up. Thankies to everyone who reviewed!! You are my favorite people in all the whole wide world!!

A slight warning—rampant sap. It's _everywhere_. I've planted myself a damn maple tree forest full of it.

****

DEDICATED TO: My dearest Kayla and Stephanie. The world's greatest Care Bears and the loveliest little proteges the world has ever seen. Consider yourselves completely corrupted. There's nothing more I can do.

~*~

Hospitals were for the weak. Wufei hated them.

But here he sat, waiting patiently (as patient as _he_ could be) for Sally to come out of the room. Upon their arrival, she had immediately taken over the hospital's own staff and flung herself into full "Doctor Mode." No one had questioned her. Well, some little first-year nimrod had, but one look from Wufei had silenced him quite effectively.

Sally came through the door, closing it softly.

"Does he have to stay?" Wufei asked, rising to meet her.

"Technically, yes…"

Wufei shot her a dark look.

Sally smiled. "…But I think he needs to be with the others."

"Thank you," Wufei said. It didn't hurt to say it anymore.

"Go on in there. The tranquilizers were pretty heavy, but I think he'll be up sooner then most. Careful of his bandages," Sally advised. She scribbled something down on a clipboard held in her hand.

Wufei looked down to his toes, then cocked his head up in a completely uncharacteristic manner. "I expect you make house calls?"

Sally quirked an eyebrow, then placed an unsure hand on Wufei's shoulder. Her own shoulders shook a bit as she chuckled softly. "Of course."

Wufei looked at the hand on his shoulder in interest, but didn't say anything. He nodded and walked to the door. It was light, opening easily. He stepped into the darkened room. Amidst the plethora of medical machines and devices (all turned-off and silent), lay a thin figure in a hospital gown. Bruises covered the pale, milky skin. The hands were bandaged; the right wrist was in a brace and the boy's entire left leg was scraped raw. There was a huge bandage across the figure's forearm.

Wufei clucked his tongue. He padded up to the bed and snatched up the light blue hospital scrubs that lay at the end. Quickly he slipped the pants onto the boy's body, taking care to not aggravate the scrapes and bruises. The patient didn't stir, not surprising Wufei at all. He sat down on the bed, pulling the unconscious body up to a sitting position, leaning the boy against his chest. Gently Wufei lifted the hospital gown over the boy's head.

Wufei felt his anger spark as he saw the scrapes along the boy's back and felt the pressure of the white gauze that protected the wounded shoulder. 

How _dare_ this happen. How _dare_ anyone cause such pain to the Gundam pilots. 

He slipped the soft shirt over his comrade's torso. Then he reached around and pulled the thick chestnut braid through the collar, freeing it from the cloth. The plait was a mess, but he'd rebraid it while they waited.

Silently Wufei lifted Duo off of the bed. Quickly, yet smoothly, he walked to the door.

"Sally."

The door opened, allowing Wufei to pass through without having to disturb the unconscious American. He walked down the hall, his face dark with rage. Sally fell into step behind him. Together they walked down the corridor, their eyes daring anyone to object to the proceedings.

Sally stopped at a pale blue door that led to another patient room. "You should wait in here. I'll meet Trowa and Quatre and send them in."

"I doubt we'll be here very much longer," Wufei said, glancing through the small window beside the door.

Sally nodded and smiled. "He's not up yet, you know."

Wufei grunted good-naturedly, but said nothing. Sally held open the door while he walked through it and then shut it, drifting down to the waiting rooms to meet the other pilots. Wufei had a random thought about doing "something nice" for her after this entire mess had blown over—but then immediately dismissed it.

Wufei carefully walked over to the small couch positioned beside the bed. He sat down, rearranging Duo's body so that the American was lying on his side, chestnut head pillowed in his lap. The pale boy snored lightly.

__

Baka. What were you thinking? What did they do to you? He gave Duo's head a tentative pat. The feel of the ragged hair reminded him and he undid the American's braid and began sorting tangles. 

When he was done plaiting Duo's hair, Wufei looked to the hospital bed. Heero lay there, his upper half propped up on pillows. He'd just come out from surgery. The bullet had lodged itself in the muscle of the Japanese boy's shoulder, nicking a lung and breaking the collarbone. Heero would probably be fully recovered within a month at the most—Wufei didn't doubt the healing ability of the Perfect Soldier for a second.

Blue eyes opened, slightly slower than usual. 

"How is he?" Heero's classic monotone sang through the room. Wufei bit back a small smile.

"Physically it's nothing the baka can't handle. I have no idea what's going on in that loopy little mind of his," Wufei said. His insulting manner was only half-hearted. Truth be told, he respected Duo Maxwell. The boy ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, but he had a brilliant mind and was a damn good pilot.

"Hn."

Heero calmly slipped the IV needle out of his arm (they seemed to give the damn things out even to the people who didn't need them) and detached himself from any monitor. Then he gracefully slipped from the bed. The only sign of the side effects from the anesthesia was the slight decrease in his usual pace. Heero was moving at only ½ his supernatural speed.

Quickly the Japanese boy located a pair of hospital scrubs and slipped them on. They were like Duo's, but they were a dark green not unlike his tank top. He had a large bandage covering his right shoulder.

Wufei caught a slight twitch at the corner of Heero's mouth as he pulled the shirt over his head. _And you're a baka too._

"Trowa and Quatre will be here soon. We'll wait 'til they come," Wufei said. Heero nodded, looking outside through the small window by the door. The hallway was empty. The shorter boy turned and looked to Wufei.

Heero pointed a finger towards Duo. "Would you mind?"

Wufei blinked, confused for a moment. Then he shook his head. "No, it's fine."

Very carefully, Wufei stood up from the little couch. Gently he lifted Duo's body as Heero sat down, occupying the spot he had just been sitting in. The Japanese pilot eased Duo's head back into his lap. The American made a sound that sounded like a sob and reached out with a hand, looking for something to grab. Heero took that hand in his, looking at it in fascination as Duo quieted down, drawing Heero's hand to his chest.

Wufei felt very out of place. _I always thought they might…but Duo…oh well._

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "So, aah…good to see you, Yuy."

~*~

Trowa's heart felt heavy. His soul felt heavy. His whole goddamned body felt heavy. He felt as though his usual light-footedness had suddenly abandoned him, though he was still gliding along with his usual gait.

The trip to the hospital had proven to be interesting. The minute he and Quatre had walked through those doors and seen Sally Po…he had feared the worst. However, a quick, kind word from the woman had soothed him, along with Quatre's small fingers slipping in between his own. She had promptly led them to Heero's hospital room, where Trowa was surprised to find the Japanese boy sitting on the couch, Duo lying unconscious in his lap. Wufei was sitting on the bed, trying his best to act normal. To Trowa, it looked as if the Chinese boy had a large stick shoved up his…nose.

__

Hmm…I would have thought Wufei would have been more observant. 

Trowa saw the rather blank look on Heero's face.

__

But I suppose it's not that obvious.

Wufei stood up. "I know you two want to know what happened, but lets just get out of here first. Everything can be explained in the car."

__

No, damnit! Jesus Christ, look_ at Duo! What the hell happened?!_

"Sure," he said, his voice as cool and unemotional as it had always been. 

And so he had led the way back out to the car, situating everyone. Wufei carried Duo, Heero unable to do so because of his arm, but the minute everyone was seated the American was back into the ex-Wing pilot's hold.

Trowa found that his age-old cool and patience had returned to him. The thought somewhat sickened him, but today seemed to be a good time for everyone to fall back on their old habits. He didn't even blink as Heero told the whole tale of Duo's little "trip" to the Preventors. Heero, he noticed, didn't either.

And so with a blank countenance Trowa stepped out from the limousine, reaching back in to take Duo, who was starting to show the first signs of waking up. The boy was mumbling and fluttering his fingers as the five ex-pilots walked into the mansion.

At the base of the indoor staircase, Heero suddenly wheeled around. Trowa took a quick step back. Duo muttered and turned over in his arms. Suddenly he felt tired.

"I'll take him from here," Heero said. "I think we should all take a break for the rest of the day and meet tomorrow morning at 6:00. Then we'll decide on our next course of action."

Wufei and Quatre nodded. Trowa looked at Heero's bandaged shoulder.

"You sure you can carry him?" he asked.

Heero gave the green-eyed pilot a good "watch me" look, slipped his arms under Duo's thin frame, and took the boy from Trowa. 

"Heero?" Quatre asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to stay with him? Make sure he's…" Quatre trailed off and fidgeted. He took a step closer to Trowa.

Heero nodded. "Yes."

Trowa caught a note of anxiety in the Japanese boy's tone. _Time to make an exit._ He turned to Quatre and Wufei.

"Well then," he said. "I suggest we go and get the situation cleaned up down there."

Wufei folded his arms. "I'll go back and finish tying up the loose ends with Sally. Trowa, you and Quatre can stay here and take care of that baka."

Quatre smiled gently. "Thank you Chang."

__

He's the only one who could get away with that, I think. Trowa turned slightly and lowered his voice, sending Heero a message that only the Japanese boy could hear.

"Go ahead and take him upstairs. I'll make sure everything is taken care of."

Trowa had always had a certain understanding with Heero. They were the two pilots who had the most in common. If Heero came home with a broken leg and didn't want to set it, Trowa understood and didn't bother him. Trowa was the only one who didn't chide Heero for spending thirteen hours straight in front of his laptop (even Wufei had finally broken down—"When the hell are you going to actually go on the mission instead of sitting around here all day like a damn onna?!"). Heero was the same with him. If the taller boy wanted to go on a mission with only a pencil as artillery, so be it. 

And so, without doubting his comrade in the least, Heero gave a small grunt and dashed up the stairs.

Trowa refocused on Quatre and Wufei. "I'll come by later and help you out. If you don't need help with cleanup, I'm sure I can be of service in the near future."

"What do you mean?" Quatre and Wufei asked in unison.

"It seems the government has decided to stop providing correct information to the Preventors. Obviously that's a problem. This kind of thing comes from a bad seed in the higher-ups. Under Relena's peaceful rule, the entire government wouldn't pull something like this. Besides Heero, I have the least amount of information on me—I'm perfect for infiltration," Trowa explained. 

Wufei blinked, obviously surprised at all the words that had just come tumbling out of the green-eyed boy's mouth. Trowa didn't care. He felt a little too tired to be taciturn at the moment.

"Good point," the Chinese boy said, politely. 

Quatre gave a huge yawn. "I'm beat," he said meekly. Trowa tried to stifle his own.

"Take a nap," Wufei said, point-blank. "I've got to get going."

"Feel free to use the limo. Tell Une I'll pay for damages too," Quatre said. He gave a small frown. "And give her my sympathies of course."

"Fine. Trowa, take care of everyone." Wufei turned and walked out the door, as brusque as ever.

Quatre looked to Trowa and clapped his hands. "Alright! Off to bed you go!"

__

Huh?

Trowa blinked. "Come again?"

"You're tired, Trowa," said the blonde. He stepped up to the taller boy and gave him a huge hug. "I know you caught the red-eye flight to come here. Go get some sleep."

"What about Duo?" Trowa asked. 

Quatre sighed. "He's hurting. A lot more than I thought he'd be able to, if that makes sense. But I think Heero will be able to help him. He…needs him, but I don't think he knows that yet. I don't know how much help we'd be."

Trowa kissed the small Arabian on the head. "Alright. Show me to my room."

Quatre looked up and grinned at him. "Okay."

Trowa let himself be dragged up the stairs, down the hall, and all around the second floor of the mansion, before Quatre finally stopped in front of a door.

Hm. Since when did guests get to stay in the master bedroom?

~*~

Heero didn't know how well this was going to go over. He supposed that right now it was either sink or swim. Today…today was a day of life-altering decisions and events.

Sounded a little dramatic to him.

Oh well. It couldn't really be helped.

Duo was lying on his bed, curled in a relaxed fetal position. The tranquilizers had long ago worn off—the American was now asleep on his own accord. Heero sat beside him on the bed, leaning back against the backboard. It was a good thing Duo had a double bed. 

Heero let his hand trail down to smooth out Duo's spiky bangs. He kept it there, gently caressing the silkiness of the boy's chestnut locks. His damn shoulder hurt, and it was hard to breathe on the right side of his body. He figured he'd probably had his lung nicked by the bullet. Nothing that wouldn't heal in a few days.

All right, weeks.

Heero shifted slightly. What if Duo woke up with that same crazy gleam in his eye? Worse yet, what if Duo woke up and was broken—destroyed, as some soldiers became after being pushed to their limit. This mission had triggered something dark that lay in the American's heart, and it had nearly made him kill off his own friends.

What if Heero told him that—

Duo moaned. Heero felt eyelashes flutter against the tip of his thumb. He snatched his hand away.

"_Heero_?" 

The voice was airy and awed.

"I'm here Duo," he said. Heero almost winced at his own monotone. Out of plain fear he kept his eyes forward.

"Are you all right?" Duo asked. With a grunt the American boy sat up, his movements sluggish and unbalanced due to the tranquilizers.

"Careful," Heero said softly, scooting over on the bed to allow Duo more room. He about smacked himself over the head. Now why in the hell did he have to go and say that?

Duo reached out with a wrapped hand and touched Heero's bandaged shoulder as lightly as humanly possible. The Japanese boy froze.

"I—I'm sorry," Duo whispered.

Heero shrugged his good shoulder. "I'm fine."

Duo dropped his hand. He leaned against the headboard and looked away. The misery and agony was so incredibly apparent on his face that Heero felt like crying…well, he'd never cried, but he supposed this is what it felt like.

Heero dredged up all of his reserves.

"Want to talk about it?"

The American's head snapped around quicker than Heero expected. He supposed it was warranted—since when had he given a damn? For a moment Duo's face seemed to open up in relief, but then those violet eyes blanked out.

"No," Duo said. He brought his knees up to his chest and laid his head down on them. "Could you…could you please leave me alone?"

"Duo," Heero said, "Do not start acting like me."

"It's all right," the longhaired boy whispered, closing his eyes. "I'm better now. I'm not going to go on a rampage."  


"I'm not worried about that," Heero said.

"You're never worried." The words were quiet and matter-of-fact.

Heero blinked. "That's not true."

"Look," Duo said, his tone suddenly turning sharp. He snapped his eyes open and burned two holes in Heero's head. "I don't want you here right now, that's all. You've already seen me losing touch with reality. I don't want you seeing me at my most wretched. I'm not as strong as you Heero, I can't handle it."

"I am not going to leave you alone to wallow in self-loathing and self-pity," Heero said. He relaxed a little. Duo was at least getting angry in the usual manner. He rolled with the mood swing and was patient.

"I can't understand you," Duo said, bitingly. He squirmed a little on the bed. "I don't fucking _get_ you."

"What? You've always said I'm dangerously predictable," Heero replied, giving his head a small scratch.

"Exactly. You're always the Perfect Soldier. You're always Mr. Tank top and Spandex. You like your sandwiches with a dollop of mayo but not mustard because you're allergic to it. You are Mr. Do-Right. You can shoot down an army of mobile dolls faster than you can shower. You have a close personal attachment to your laptop. The only thing you ever say to me is 'Shut up Duo,' and 'baka.' You never show your emotions. Which is why for the life of me I can't understand why the hell you're sitting in my bed, sounding as if you give a damn about my well-being," Duo spat.

For a moment, Heero absorbed the information. He hadn't realized that Duo was that observant. Was the American resentful? Or was he just merely stating the truth? Disillusioned, perhaps? Well, he'd have to fix that.

"I do give a damn," Heero whispered finally. He wiped his sweating palms on his pants.

Duo's face fell, as if he'd been hit. The anger vanished and his body relaxed. "Why?"

"Because I think I'm…I'm…" Heero stopped and took a breath. Duo's face was anxious. 

Sink or swim. Fight or flight. Do or die. 

"Because I think I'm in love with you." 

Time decided to stop momentarily.

__

Holy fuck. I just said it. Holy fuck. I never thought I'd ever say anything like that. I never thought I'd ever FEEL anything like this. But I never thought…I never thought I'd meet anyone like him. Sweet Jesus…I think I'm fucked.

Duo looked at him for a long time, little gears turning behind his violet gaze.

Heero did what he was best at—staying silent. The American flipped his braid over one shoulder and stroked it. He stared at his lap.

"Do you mean that?" he whispered.

"Yes," Heero answered. His chest was burning with an unfamiliar sensation. Could that be…fear?

"Oh god," Duo breathed. He let out a small, tortured sob, and then buried his face in his arms. "Oh god oh god oh god."

Heero felt his heart sink. _Yep, I'm fucked. That wasn't exactly the reaction I had hoped for._

But before he knew what he was doing, Heero had reached out and circled an arm around his comrade's shaking shoulders. Duo surprised him and turned into the touch, clutching at the sides of Heero's scrub shirt as he sobbed against his chest.

"I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry Heero. I'm so glad you're all right. I'm so glad I didn't…I didn't…oh god Heero, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Duo. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay, alright?" Heero said, his voice gentler than he thought it could be. For some reason he felt as if he'd passed a test. As if by confessing his feelings he'd been given a green card to pass through Duo's walls. He hoped they led to something important. He carefully wrapped both arms around the American and held him. It felt wonderful, despite the fact that he was pained by the anguish Duo was feeling.

The longhaired boy shuddered harshly, but his tears stopped. "I'm…I'm…"

"Duo?" Heero whispered in the ex-pilot's ear. He felt closer to Duo, yet heartbroken as to how far away he really was. Why were all his emotions in a paradox with themselves?

"Yes?"

"Tell me what happened today."

Duo's death grip on his side relaxed. "O-okay."

~*~

Heero said he might be in love with him.

Duo didn't know what to think. Sure, he'd considered the possibility of a relationship with Heero when he had first met him, but that was during the war. It had been too risky and certainly unimportant. To fall in love with someone who could be dead the next day was not the kind of emotional roller coaster Duo wanted.

Not to mention that Heero seemed to be a robot clothed in skin made of gundanium.

But there had always been that closeness…how Heero would put up with his bad jokes, actually listen when Duo had something constructive to say, and for some reason the Japanese boy always chose him for partner missions.

Heero might love him…god, what a wonderful feeling. And to think that just a few hours earlier he had attempted to kill him.

Duo relaxed against the other boy's chest. It felt so nice to be held. He blinked away the horrors of the afternoon—the motorcycle chase, Une's eyes dilating and sliding shut, Heero collapsing on top of him, finally falling unconscious from his injuries. Of course, that was after the Japanese boy had saved his life by knocking the gun out of his hand as he pulled the trigger. The bullet had barely grazed the top of his shoulder. 

Ah, the Perfect Soldier with his lightening quick reflexes. 

Feeling safe and on his way to peace, Duo locked the bad memories away. Wufei's yelling combined with his screams as he tried to revive Heero, convinced the boy was dead, slowly faded from his mind. The sting of the tranquilizer Sally had injected into his arm as Wufei held him lessened in its recent intensity. 

Heero waited patiently for him to begin. The Japanese boy was probably dying in anticipation after his little confession. Duo needed to tell him how he felt. But first…

"I was raised in an orphanage," Duo said. The words were hard to say. It was as if they were swollen and roughly edged. He'd never told anyone about his past. However, Duo found himself methodically telling the sorry tale of his life before the war. How he was responsible for the demise of Sister Helen and Father Maxwell, the days he spent whoring on the streets, and finally about stealing away onto G's ship.

He didn't tell Heero about Solo. He didn't know why.

Duo sighed, falling silent. He felt tired and empty. The violent insanity he'd finally let slip had left as quickly as it'd come. Now all that was left was his constant guilt and sadness. All he had to do was slap that grin back on his face and crack a joke.

Congratulations, it's Instant Duo.

Why the hell was it so hard this time? How could he have lost that much control of himself?

"So you fought the war to atone for the massacre?" Heero asked.

Duo nodded, wretched once more. "Doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"It wasn't your fault," Heero whispered. "The orphanage would have been bombed with or without you stealing that MS. You had no control over the situation. Exactly like today. You can't blame yourself for things that you couldn't have prevented."

Duo said nothing. He'd heard the same argument before. He reached up and ran a finger down Heero's neck. Perhaps he could find absolution here. Heero was as innocent as they came. Absolution in innocence. It had a wonderful, if almost unbelievingly impossible ring to it.

"I fought the war for other reasons as well," he said. Heero has skin like porcelain. He'd never noticed before.

"Would you like to elaborate?" Heero asked. His eyes closed.

This boy was just too damn cute. There was a definite possibility here. Duo prayed there was, at least. 

"Heero, you know I never lie, right?" he asked. He felt himself sinking back, leaning into the Japanese boy. He pillowed his head on a tan, undamaged shoulder.

Heero's eyes remained closed. "Yes."

Deep breath. Big gulp. _I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie. Duo Maxwell._

"I've always cared about you Heero. I fought the war with every intention of keeping you alive. I never made a move that increased the risk for you. In other words, I could easily, easily fall in love with you," Duo whispered. 

It was surprisingly easy to say it, even. Was that an omen? Heero's eyes popped open.

"But…" he continued, "I'm…I'm…scared. I'm really fucking terrified. Look at what happened—"

Suddenly there was a finger against his lips.

"Don't think about what happened today, or any day before this," Heero said, angling his head towards Duo's. "Because no matter what you've done or what you're going to do, it's not going to affect the way I feel."

"Are you sure about that?" Duo asked, ignoring the finger pressed against his mouth. God, Heero had deep, _deep_ blue eyes. 

"I don't say anything I don't mean," Heero replied.

"And I never lie," Duo said, smiling at the similarity. He was feeling better for the first time since the mission. "You wanna know something else?"

Heero relaxed beneath him. "Sure."

"I think I just might be in love with you too," he said, bringing a hand up to cup the side of the other boy's face.

Wonders of wonders, was that a smile on lips of a Mr. Heero Yuy? 

Duo felt his eyes light up. Feeling free, he leaned in and softly kissed Heero on the mouth.

Absolution felt damn good.

~*~


End file.
